Figuring It Out
by IWasMissAusten
Summary: Hotch/Emily story - their friendship is growing stronger, but will anything more develop? Lots of Jack, some fluff, a little angst, but all in all a good story!
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is a Hotch/Emily story for the most part. Other team members will make appearances, but it's not a case-fic or anything like that. It will be multi-chapter, and I've already finished most of the story, so with any luck I'll be able to update regularly until the story is complete. Please, if you have any thoughts or constructive criticism, comment away! It would be much appreciated. Enjoy!

"What the hell, Hotch?" Emily Prentiss' scathing voice echoed down the halls of the BAU as she followed her boss back to their office. They had been out on the West Coast for a case - a strangler targeting successful brunettes. There had been five victims before the BAU had been able to catch the guy, and would have only been four had they gotten there an hour earlier. Needless to say, all members of the team were exhausted, having taken the case hard. However, one in particular wasn't willing to let this one go, quite yet. She was royally pissed, and as she followed their boss, the rest of the team had lagged behind - not wanting to be in the thick of this argument, but not wanting to miss it completely. The fact that Hotch hadn't yet turned around to face her left Emily even more incensed. "I said, what the hell?" Her voice was low, dangerous, and the noise of her heels on the floors added to the overall feeling of intimidation. She was gaining on him, her steps quick and sure, and he knew it. Agent Hotchner stopped, and turned deliberately to face his team member. He saw the murderous rage in her eyes, and gave an internal sigh. He was expecting this, knew his actions would have consequences, but was really hoping he wouldn't have to deal with it. Which wasn't fair to her, he supposed. And he knew her better than to assume she wouldn't voice her discontent. He had given her a lot of reasons to be discontent today, and he knew it.

"What is it, Agent Prentiss?" he asked, his voice controlled as usual. He saw his colleague bite her lip with supressed anger. He hazarded an educated guess that it wasn't about to stay supressed much longer.

"You know exactly what I am talking about!" She fought to keep her voice in check, knowing she was making a scene. "I cannot believe that after all these years of working together, that after everything I have proved to you about who I am and my abilities, that you would think so little of me to actually _order_ me to stay behind, and humiliate me in front of my team and the entirety of the Portland police department!" She took a deep breath, not nearly finished with her tirade. "And then you had the audacity not to allow me into the interview, when you _know _I was the best person to get him to talk, given the victimology. Rossi even told you so! I am an excellent profiler, and I am MORE than capable of taking care of myself. I am not some petulant child that you need to babysit!" She spat the last sentence at him, her words perfectly enunciated and therefore sharper, and for a half a millisecond one might have been able to see the seemingly invincible Unit Chief wince. He didn't like making her mad, he didn't take pleasure in the way she was looking at him as if she wanted to rip him to pieces. But he didn't know how to get her to understand. Hell, he himself didn't understand. Something about this case, the victims, made him feel uneasy putting her in a room with that psycho. And he was fully aware he wasn't giving her the credit she deserved, but it was hard to care with the pictures of dark-haired women marked with hand prints around their necks still fresh in his mind.

"Agent Prentiss, I am sorry if you were hurt by my choices, but as the leader of this time it is my job to make the decisions. I did not think that you would be needed at the take-down or in the interview," measured calm was his voice. Knowing he had just given the world's lamest excuse to a trained behavior reader, he hastened to add, "besides, I was uncomfortable with the personal interest you were taking in the victims, and thought it best that you were not allowed to continue to do so." Emily's eyes grew even darker as she swallowed Hotch's rationalization. Like always, it stung that her ability to connect with the victims of the heinous crimes they witnessed placed her at a disadvantage within the Bureau.

"Personal interest?" her voice was full of contempt and derision. "It's called having feelings, Hotch, not that you'd know anything about that, you cold bastard," she said venomously, knowing and not caring at the moment that those words would hurt. She didn't particularly want to hurt him, of course, but he had done so to her with his actions today, and, as most would, she was lashing back. The two stood in a silent standoff for a moment, neither one giving any tells. They were both experienced profilers, but both were frozen, unreadable at the moment. Then -

"Why?" her voice was a harsh noise into the silence.

"Why, what, Agent Prentiss?" he spat back, beginning to get annoyed. At her, for cornering him and making him explain when all he wanted to do was go home, give Jack a kiss, and fall into bed immediately. But moreso, at himself, for getting into this predicament in the first place. He knew she was an experienced agent, he knew she was as good if not better than himself at what they did, and he had no doubts that she could absolutely take care of herself in any situation. But he hadn't acted like he believed any of those things today; hence the current standoff.

"Tell me why," she challenged. "Why did you take the rest of the team out to catch this guy, and why did you order me like some stray dog to stay put? And then don't even let me at him, when you know I would've gotten him in half the time it took Morgan. Why, Hotch? It is because you don't trust me, still? I thought we had gotten past that years ago. Is it because I'm a woman? Is it because you don't think I could have taken him? I could have, Hotch, and you know it. Is it because you don't think I can handle myself in there with him? You've seen me go head to head with tons of these guys before, and I've done just fine. So you tell me. Why?" Her voice had regained an eerie calm, but her eyes still flashed with rage.

Rage, and hurt. Confusion. The rage he could deal with - it was the other things he couldn't bear to see. He knew she was right on all counts, of course she was, but he couldn't justify his actions anymore than he already had. Which is to say, he couldn't really justify his actions at all. The stare-down continued, and he knew she was waiting for an answer. He knew he couldn't give her one, so he thought an apology would be the next best thing.

"Emily," his voice soft. "I'm sorry."

Apparently not. She looked at him incredulously, fuming still. She took a deep breath, and though her voice would be strong, the slight moisture gathering at the corner of her eyes betrayed her true emotions. Hotch swallowed noticeably. It was one thing to see the strong Agent Prentiss enraged and demanding answers. It was quite another to see Emily, the woman, crying because she had had a shitty day (and a shitty day because of him). "My name is Agent Prentiss, sir." The last word was dripping with so much contempt and anger that Hotch winced visibly this time as the brunette agent strode right past him. He could practically feel the heat of her anger radiating off of her. He stood still for a minute or two, trying to process and internalize what had just happened. He still wasn't sure of it. He wasn't sure of his actions, though she had seemed plenty sure of hers.

"She's right, you know." A quiet voice came up from behind Hotch, and he sighed.

"I don't have to justify my actions, JJ," Hotch replied, more harshly than he intended, turning to face his other female agent. She studied him quietly, a profiler in her own right, and saw the well disguised conflict in his eyes.

"As a boss, that's true, Hotch," she agreed. "But as a teammate - as her friend - you royally sucked today." Hotch gave a mirthless smile at her choice of words, so reminiscent of Emily.

"I know," he murmured. And he really did. She had been nothing but a wonderful friend to him, especially considering how bleak some of the past months had been. And this is how he repaid her, he thought humorlessly. Great job, Hotch, he mentally berated himself.

"She deserves an explanation." JJ continued, always the voice of reason.

"I know," he repeated. And then a beat. "I don't know if I have one."

"I know," now it was JJ's turn to mimic him. "But I think you owe it to her to at least try and figure one out." She gave him a sympathetic smile

"JJ, what would we do without you?" Hotch finally gave a true smile, and JJ was relieved to see it. "Flounder around in a sea of monotone syllables and eyebrow quirks," she quipped. "Goodnight, Hotch."

"Goodnight, JJ. Give Henry a kiss for me."

"And Jack one for me, boss man."

That, he thought, was a doable request. Figuring out how to fix things with one Emily Prentiss? That was going to take some work.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Here's chapter 2 - lots of Jack, a not happy Emily, and a slightly confused Hotch. I would love to get some comments/feedback on how you think the story is going, or what you like or don't like about it.

I don't own any of these characters or anything related to Criminal Minds.

* * *

"Daddy! You hafta wake up!" Hotch cracked one eye open with a groan as his four year old son jumped up and down on the bed.

"What's up buddy?" he asked, his voice hoarse with sleep. He'd been exhausted after the case and flight, even more exhausted after his draining fight with Emily, and had fallen into a deep sleep almost immediately, a rarity in the life of Aaron Hotchner, who often survived on three or four hours of sleep a night.

"We gotta eat breakfast and get ready 'cause Em's taking us to the zoo today!" Hotch groaned again. Shit. That's right. Emily was supposed to come over and go with them to the Zoo. The new Lion exhibit had just opened, and Jack was dying with excitement to see it. Unfortunately, the memories of his last encounter with the brunette agent flooded back into his mind, and he wasn't quite sure how this was going to work out. He didn't really see a pleasant friendly outing on the horizon as he recalled some of the words she had (probably rightly, he conceded to himself) spat at him in the hallway of the BAU.

"Buddy, I don't know if we can go to the Zoo today," Hotch said, and watched as Jack's face fell.

"Why not?" he asked, sticking out his bottom lip, a trait against which Hotch was usually defenseless.

"Well," Hotch began, only to be interrupted by a knock at the door. Like a rocket, Jack was off.

"Em! Daddy, c'mon, it's Em! And I'm still wearin' my pajamas. Daddy!" Jack's slight whine trailed back as Hotch followed his son, a pit in his stomach. If it was Emily, what could he say? Would she still be angry? Truthfully, he thought, _he'd_ still be angry, and he knew Emily well enough to know that when her feelings were hurt in such a way, she wasn't particularly quick to forgive. She was just as stubborn as he was, something that he both admired and gave him a headache. A taste of his own medicine, she'd tease when being particularly difficult about something - who would pay for the pizza, or the debate as to if riding shotgun automatically gave one power over the radio (she said yes, he argued that privilege rested with the driver alone). But if it wasn't Emily at his door, well that would almost be worse. Because as much as he wasn't looking forward to another verbal lashing, he had grown to look forward to the weekend excursions with his son and his teammate. And, if she showed up, well that would mean that all hope wasn't completely lost, that he hadn't screwed up beyond repair. His friendship with Emily was important, and JJ had been right when she'd called him a sucky friend the day before.

"Daddy!" Jack whined again, stomping impatiently at the door, waiting for his father to look through the peephole and unchain the lock, per routine. Hotch looked through the small hole, saw that it was in fact Emily, and unlocked the door.

"EM!" Jack yelped with glee as he propelled himself into the awaiting arms of the agent, whom he had called exclusively by the simple "Em" since around their second true meeting. Jack had made up a mish-mash of nicknames for his father's coworkers - pet names of sorts. JJ was just J, and Garcia was Miss Penny. Rossi was Uncle Dave, Morgan was Mr. Morgan, and Reid was simply Reid. None of the agents questioned their new identities, but took to them (and their little bestower) warmly.

"Hey Jack!" Emily's face lit up when her favorite five year old launched into her. She took in his appearance, and laughed. "Buddy, you're still in your PJs! Why don't you run and go get some clothes on quick so we don't miss feeding time at the Polar Bear exhibit. We'll grab some breakfast on the way because something tells me you probably haven't eaten," she put him down, and off Jack scampered in search of clothes. Finally, Emily looked up and met Hotch's eyes for the first time. He was waiting for this, waiting to see just how angry she still was. Her eyes, however, gave nothing away - he had met his proverbial match insofar as being virtually unreadable, even to a highly trained professional. But he could tell she was still mad as they stood there in silence. Usually by now they'd have migrated to his kitchen, where he usually had two cups of coffee set out. Black for him, black with a tiny splash of cream for her. He'd finally perfected the measurement - somewhere between a drop and a spoonful, Emily had instructed. He'd slept in unintentionally this morning, so there was no coffee, but he knew she wouldn't have accepted it, not today. If it was a normal weekend off, they'd be fighting over the newspaper at his small table while Jack finished slurping up his cereal, and they'd happily discuss how to spend their leisure time. Emily had really taken care of them since Haley's death, coming over every Saturday to make sure they were doing alright. At first, it had been to get them out of the house and distract Hotch and let Jack be a kid, but now it had grown into a comfortable routine, and the sadness that had permeated the first few weeks had long since passed. Today, however, she made no moves towards the kitchen, and the two adults stood in stark silence, she tapping her foot rhythmically as she tended to do when anxious or annoyed, he still rubbing stray sleep from his eyes. It was unbearable.

"Listen, Emily," he began before a sharp look from his colleague silenced him. She had made it clear last night that he was not to refer to her by her first name, but here in his home that's who she was, just Emily, not Agent Prentiss, not even Prentiss. Just Emily.

"Maybe it's best if Jack and I head to the zoo by ourselves today," she said with practiced diplomacy. "We really do have to get going and you don't look particularly ready," she glanced at him appraisingly, and Hotch felt suddenly exposed. "It'll just be easier," her voice was neutral, but her intention was crystal clear. The flashing of her eyes very clearly signaled to Hotch that she had absolutely no plans on attending the zoo with him accompanying her, and if he tried - well, he didn't particularly care to find out. All he knew was that he'd seen Emily take down men twice her size on wrestling mat at the Bureau. She wasn't to be trifled with. Hotch cleared his throat.

"Yes, I have some paperwork to catch up on anyway, so why don't you two go on ahead," he responded, equally as neutral as his son ran back into the room.

"I'm all ready, Em!" Jack announced proudly, and a smile flashed across Emily's face. "I even got my lion shirt on!"

"Perfect. Alright, Bub, then let's get a move on!" she said, grabbing his coat from the hook near the door and reaching out her hand.

"Daddy?" Jack looked up at his father, his brow furrowed in a perfect imitation of the older man. "Aren't you coming?"

"Not today, buddy. I have some work to do, but you have a great time with Emily and when you get home we'll make some mac and cheese for dinner, okay?"

"Okay," Jack agreed happily at the mention of his favorite food. "I'll tell ya all about the polar bears and lions when we get back," he added with a smile, and Hotch couldn't help but smile back.

"Thanks, bud. Now be a good boy for Emily, okay?"

"Okay," Jack promised as he grabbed hold of Emily's hand. As the two walked out of the apartment, he heard Jack say,

"You look very pretty today, Em." Hotch snorted with laughter. His son was right, Emily did look nice, dressed casually in jeans and a black cardigan, but where on earth had Jack learned such sweet-talker moves? It only took a fraction of a second for Hotch to land on Morgan as the likely culprit - god knows it wasn't Reid. Hotch chuckled to himself, and as he closed the door he heard Emily laugh as well, and then answer his son.

"My goodness, Mr. Hotchner, you are the best date any girl could imagine." And then, almost as if she knew Hotch was listening. "Much better than your grumpy old dad," she added, bending down to tickle Jack, who squealed with glee. Hotch sighed. Yep. As if it wasn't clear before - definitely still pissed.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N - Okay, a great deal of Jack in this chapter! I'm worried about this chapter seeming kind of filler-ish but I think it's necessary to the story over all. There will definitely be more Hotch/Prentiss action in the next chapter, this is just getting us to that point.

Please review! I really hope to hear what you all are thinking of this story/if you all are even reading!

And, as ever, I do not own Criminal Minds or anything pertaining to it.

* * *

"Em?" Emily looked down at her young charge, and resisted the urge to laugh. He had chocolate ice cream all over his face, and even a bit in his hair. The melting cone was dripping all down his arm and out the bottom, and he looked positively adorable. A huge mess, but adorable nonetheless.

"Hang on, bud," she said as she bent down and pulled a few napkins out of her bag. "Let's get some of this stuff off your face," she said, gently wiping the chocolate off his cheeks and mouth. She next tackled his arm, and threw the finished ice cream cone away as Jack waited patiently. "Much better, Jack. I thought you were a monster there for a second!" She teased him gently, causing the young boy to giggle. But then he remembered the question he had been meaning to ask before the clean-up.

"Em?" He said again, and Emily turned to him. "How come you and daddy didn't have your coffee time today? You always have coffee together and you always read me the comics," the boy explained. "But how come you didn't today?"

Emily should have known that Jack would notice the difference in the morning routine. He was his father's son, after all. He was constantly noticing things that the adult presumed would go over his head, and asking question after question. They ought to have learned better by now, but apparently not.

"Well, buddy, your dad and I both slept in, so we were running a little late. No time for coffee or comics this morning," she explained reasonably, not wanting to delve into the actual reason for the altered schedule.

"Oh," Jack seemed to accept this explanation, and the two walked hand in hand toward the exit of the zoo.

"Did you have fun today, Jack?" Emily asked her young companion, who grinned up at her with a dimpled smile, so reminiscent of his father. When the elder Hotchner actually smiled, that is.

"Yes!" he replied emphatically. "I wish daddy came though. He woulda loved seeing the lions," he said.

"Well you can tell him all about it when we get home, okay?"

"Yeah," Jack agreed. "What's for dinner?" Emily started. Another thing she hadn't thought of - the weekly dinners that followed leisurely Saturdays. This tradition had started when Hotch had confessed that he and Jack had been living off of Easy Mac and cereal for a few weeks, and Emily had taken control of the situation. She had taught him a few easy recipes one Saturday, staying for dinner, and since then they'd ended all their Saturdays making a new dish together for Hotch to learn. Last week it had been lasagna, which all three parties had devoured with equal fervor. Emily frowned as she debated how to answer Jack's question. She wasn't one for sugarcoating, but she really wasn't about to tell Jack that she was so angry at his father that she'd contemplated shooting him in the kneecap.

"Jack, I don't know if I can stay for dinner tonight," she said truthfully, and Jack looked up at her suspiciously.

"You always stay for dinner, Em."

"I know Jack, but - " Emily began, only to be cut off by the five year old.

"I'll be sad if you don't stay," he said with a pout, and Emily sighed. He was too cute, and he knew it. "Daddy will be sad too, Em."

"Daddy will be just fine," Emily replied with a huff.

"Nooo," Jack countered with a whine. "He always says that Saturdays are his favorite days because he gets to hang out with you and me and if you don't stay for dinner then he doesn't get to hang out with you and me!" Jack's five year old logic was sound, Emily had to admit, but at present she wasn't particularly concerned about making Hotch's day better. She was more concerned about the _Say Yes to the Dress_ marathon on tonight, and the ice cream she had purchased (and devoured half of) the night before, stabbing the spoon into the tub with vigor as she recounted her confrontation with the boss.

"Well, Jack," she began cautiously. "Your dad and I had a little disagreement yesterday, and we both need some cool-off time. You know how sometimes when you and your friend Charlie are playing and sometimes you get a little bit mad at each other? And then you play by yourself for a little bit until you and Charlie aren't mad anymore? That's what your daddy and I need to do," she concluded, hoping the analogy made sense.

"Oh. How come you're mad at Daddy?" Emily groaned inwardly. Apparently she had forgotten that five year olds weren't satisfied with a simple explanation, but instead required answer upon answer until oblivion.

"Well you know how your daddy is the boss at work and gets to make the decisions when we're catching bad guys?" Jack nodded. "Yesterday he made a decision that I didn't like. He wanted me to stay at the police station and not come help catch the bad guy with him. I didn't think that was fair, so I got angry." She explained in the least complicated way she could think. She knew that the curious boy would continue asking until she gave him an answer, so she figured one closest to the truth was best.

"Sometimes daddy makes me do that too," Jack said sympathetically. "At the park, he makes me stay at the slide and I can't go to the swings without him. And when we're at the store, I have to stay in the cart even though I want to walk around. I don't like it," he added as Emily lifted him up and placed him in his carseat - they had talked their way to the parking lot and to her car.

"Buckle up, bud," she said as she closed his door and got into the car herself.

"It's because I have to be safe," Jack said, and Emily turned to look at him confused.

"What's that?"

"Daddy says I have to stay in the cart so I stay safe," he clarified. "Daddy says that his job is to make sure that I'm safe, and so I have to help him do his job by staying in the cart. Because he would get worried otherwise. And when daddy gets worried he's not very fun," Jack said, wrinkling his nose, and Emily had to laugh.

"That is definitely true, Jack," Emily agreed. "And your daddy is right - it is his job to make sure you're safe. But it's not his job to make sure I'm safe, because I'm all grown up."

"But daddy also says that I have to make sure our friends are safe. Like when Charlie ran over to the swings yesterday, I had to go tell his mommy because that's what friends do. Make sure their friends are safe and happy." Jack's simple logic was so sweet, Emily turned to smile at him.

"Your daddy is right, Jack. That's very good of you to want to keep your friends safe and happy," she said, feeling slightly hypocritical as the five year old basically unraveled her entire argument against Hotch. But it wasn't really the same, she reasoned with herself. Jack's friend Charlie was five years old, and _shouldn't_ go to the swings alone. She however, was a - well, she was _not_ a five year old, far from it, and this was her job. She had taken down Unsubs before, and she would again. She could take care of herself, and she had proven it many times. Besides, Hotch had no problems sending the rest of the team into the situation, so that whole "protect-your-friends" thing that Jack had so wisely espoused didn't really stand up. Certain of her conviction once more, Emily gave a sigh. It wasn't fun, this whole being mad at Hotch business. Her whole day had been thrown out of whack without his presence, and the thought of a dinner alone at her own apartment rather than in the company of her guys sounded less than appealing (and yes, she realized how pathetic this sounded, as neither were actually hers to claim. She did feel a sense of ownership, though, as her friendship with Hotch had grown and he had looked to her for support with Jack). But it was his fault, she reminded herself. He treated her unfairly, and poorly, both as a colleague and as a friend, and as cute as Jack's words were, she was still livid that not only had Hotch made such insulting decisions, but had actually defended them to her. Stupid asshole, she thought to herself. Men can never admit when they're wrong, why did I think Hotch would be different?

"Are we gettin' out or what?" Jack asked slyly, and Emily realized they'd been parked in front of Hotch's building for a minute or two.

"Sorry, buddy. Yep, let's go tell dad all about the lions," she said, getting out of the car and opening the door for her young charge.

"And you'll stay for dinner?" Jack asked as he hopped down.

"Jack," Emily sighed, but was cut off by a tugging at her hand.

"You'll stay for dinner," the boy said decidedly with a big grin, and Emily couldn't bear to say no, so she took a deep breath, steeled herself, and tried to figure out a way to get out of the situation.

"Thanks for takin' me to the zoo, Em. I love you," Jack said innocently, and though Emily's heart constricted, she couldn't resist rolling her eyes. She was putty in this kid's hands, and he certainly wasn't making her escape any easier.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who has reviewed - I really appreciate it! In this chapter, Hotch & Emily finally talk about their issues! Well, some of their issues anyway.

If you like it or if you have a suggestion or comment, please please please click on review when you're done reading and let me know.

I own nothing.

* * *

"Daddy! Lookit what I got!" Jack burst through the door of the apartment, waving the stuffed lion Emily had bought him at the zoo.

"Wow, look at that, buddy! Did you say thank you to Emily?" Hotch asked, giving a tentative smile at the woman who had followed his son through the doorway.

"Thank you, Em," Jack said dutifully, flashing her a smile that she returned in kind.

"Anytime, Jack. Now come here and give me a hug before I go," she said, bending down to his level. Hotch wasn't surprised that she was trying to make a quick getaway - while on a regular Saturday evening she'd come in, throw her coat in the closet and start slicing and dicing, instructing Hotch on clever ways to hide vegetables in food Jack would actually eat, today was no regular Saturday. The lonely day Hotch had spent doing paperwork had certainly pounded that fact into his brain. Luckily, all that alone time had given him some time to think, and he was pretty sure he had come up with a solid solution to the Emily problem, as he thought of it.

"Em, you can't leave! You didn't eat dinner yet!" Jack whined, looking up at his father, imploring him to do something. "Actually, Prentiss, I was hoping to have a word with you quickly," Hotch said, the words tumbling out of his mouth somewhat awkwardly; he'd inserted the Prentiss in there to let her know that he was willing to meet on her terms - the looks of daggers she'd been shooting him when he'd used her first name in the past two days had told him that perhaps retreating to formality was the best course of action at the moment.

"Well, I'm sorry but I need to be heading home," her voice was clipped, and she certainly didn't sound sorry at all. "Jack, gimme a hug!" she commanded lightly, and sensing he was losing the fight to get her to stay, the little boy went over and gave Emily a big hug.

"I wish you'd stay, Em," he said mournfully as she stood to leave.

"I know, Jack. But I'll see you soon, okay? Don't forget to tell your dad all about the lions," she reminded the small boy as she turned to leave. She wasn't quite out the door when Jack grabbed his father's pant leg.

"Just say you're sorry, daddy! Then you guys can play together again," he said seriously, and Hotch stared in wonder at his son, and then gave him a small smile.

"You are a very smart boy, Jack. And that's exactly what I'm going to do. Why don't you go put a movie in?" he suggested, and Jack's face lit up as he ran toward the den. Hotch went to the door and into the hallway, and saw that the retreating back of Emily Prentiss hadn't really made it very far.

"Emily!" he called, and though she didn't turn around, she stopped walking, waiting. "I'm sorry. My actions yesterday were completely inexcusable, and I know it. I didn't treat you with the respect you deserve, and have earned many times over. And I was a sucky friend," he said, remembering JJ's words. "So I'm sorry," he concluded lamely, not one for Mr. Darcy-esque speeches (which he only knew because Emily had made him watch Pride and Prejudice one night not too long ago). He watched her form intently, hoping she would turn back and let him explain. Having her mad at him was not only a problem personally, but professionally as well - it would make work awkward, and she would especially be distrustful of him considering his actions on the past case. Things would be strained, and they wouldn't be able to partner together effectively, which would be a problem since the two worked together extraordinarily well. He gave a small sigh of relief as she slowly pivoted and began walking slowly toward his open door.

"I'm still mad at you," she said, and he sincerely believed it. Her tone wasn't very forgiving, but at least she was hearing him out. She sat down stiffly on the living room couch, her arms crossed over her chest. Hotch shut and locked the door, and then sat in the chair facing his friend. He was thinking of a way to start again, but his thoughts were interrupted by her voice. It didn't have the same hard quality as it had in their past conversations today, and Hotch was surprised and ashamed to hear a slight vulnerability when she spoke.

"I just want to know why, Hotch. I can't think of a single reason why you would make those decisions yesterday that leads me to a conclusion other than you thinking me inadequate or inferior," she looked him straight in the eyes as she spoke, and he could see the hurt laying behind the anger.

"Emily, I do not think you inferior in any regard. Quite the opposite, actually," Hotch replied emphatically.

"Then what the hell?" Emily challenged. "Hotch, I've rarely felt that humiliated and worthless. You owe me an explanation."

"I know," he sighed. "I'm not very good at this - at explanations and feelings and all that," he admitted, causing Emily to snort.

"You don't say," she said, not altogether unkindly. "But I'm not going to even entertain the thought of forgiving you until you tell me why," she was never one to back down from a fight, and she was never one to be submissive to someone else's commands. Hotch took a deep breath. She was really going to make him explain. He had been prepared for this, had given this speech a few times to himself earlier in the day, but now, sitting here, facing her, he knew that this wasn't going to be easy for him. But, he reminded himself; this is what he needed to do.

"Did you see those victims, Emily? Did you see their dark hair and their dark eyes and their status as powerful women?" The female agent nodded. "Emily, every time I looked at those pictures, I saw you. I saw you, lifeless and strangled. I saw you dead on the floor of a house I didn't reach in time." Emily swallowed audibly as Hotch continued in a low voice. "Do you know how terrifying that is? For me, to lose my objectivity like that? I lost control, Emily. I let the Unsub get to me, and in doing so I greatly offended my best profiler." If not for the situation, Emily would have beamed in pride. She knew she was good at her job, but to be told - by Hotch, no less, that he thought she was the best, well - that was a red-letter moment. As it was, that part of what he was saying was the least of her concerns. She looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue.

"Emily, your friendship means a great deal to me. I don't have many successful personal relationships, as you are aware, and it's my own fault. But I value our friendship and if something were to happen to you," Hotch was choosing his words carefully, not knowing exactly how to put his inner turmoil into sentences. "I don't think Jack and I would be able to deal if something were to happen to you," he settled on, and looked back up at Emily. She was sitting straight, and he could practically see the wheels in her head whirling.

"Hotch, I understand the need to protect our friendship and by extension me, but I am good at my job! I can take care of myself, and I promise you that I'm not going anywhere. If I let some Unsub get the best of me, then who would make sure that Jack ate his vegetables or wore matching clothes on picture day?" Her tone was light, but then turned serious again. "I suppose I can understand your motivations, but I still don't appreciate the way you chose to handle the situation."

"I know," Hotch agreed. "I know you are more than capable of taking care of yourself, but the thought of putting you into that small interview room with that man - I didn't feel right."

"And I know that's your call as boss, Hotch, but just because this guy has a type and I'm it doesn't mean that he's less scary or less bad than any of the other men that I routinely deal with," Emily countered. "You have to let me do my job, Hotch. Of course I value our friendship, but this is my job, Hotch, and I can't let you take that from me."

"I'm not trying to, Emily. You are an integral part of the team, and you could have broken this guy twice as quickly as Morgan - you were right about that. You are an excellent profiler, and you don't need me to protect you. I get that. But in the spur of the moment, not having slept in thirty-six hours decision that I made yesterday, I felt I needed to. Protect you," he clarified. "Which isn't necessarily right, but sometimes I can't -"

"Let go of your alpha male tendencies?" Emily suggested wryly, and Hotch gave a small smile.

"Yes," he said, not feeling the need to elaborate. It was quiet for a few moments; both parties quietly digesting the conversation, and then Emily broke the silence.

"I'm not going to lie, Hotch, I'm still kind of pissed. But I appreciate the apology. Can you do something for me, though?"

"Of course," Hotch answered.

"Promise that you won't do that ever, ever again?" Her voice was serious, and she raised her eyebrows at him.

"You have my word, Emily, that I will never again let our personal relationship cloud my judgment of your ability." Emily nodded, seemingly satisfied.

"I'm going to go home, now, okay? I still need a little cooling off time and there's a bottle of wine on my counter and a tub of ice cream in my freezer."

"But, we're okay?" Hotch asked cautiously, unsure. Emily gave him a small smile.

"Yeah, Hotch. We're okay. Unless you pull that shit again," Emily warned, giving him a small smile as she stepped out the door. "I'll see you on Monday, Hotch."

"Yes, Monday," Hotch replied as she started down the hall, and then closed the door. Well, that went okay, he thought to himself with relief. Then, a pang of guilt and annoyance. But you could've told her the full reason for what you did, the little voice in his brain said. You know, that whole our value our friendship was really cute and everything, but when are you going to tell that you're not quite sure, but you may in fact love her?


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Lots of JJ in this chapter, and Emily starts to think about "things"! I have about 3 and a half chapters written ahead of this one, and I'm anticipating around 15 chapters in total. If there is something you'd particularly like to see Hotch & Emily go through, let me know! I really appreciate all those who have taken time to review the story so far, it really makes me want to write more and post more! SO, please please please continue (or start!) to comment and let me know what you think. Thanks!

And, I own nothing.

* * *

"So, you and Hotch made up, huh?" JJ sidled up to her friend's desk, placing a large cup of coffee on it, which Emily accepted gratefully.

"What?" Emily hadn't said anything to anyone about either the fight she assumed (correctly) they had all witnessed, nor had she said anything about Hotch's apology.

"Well obviously you guys did not part on the best of terms last Friday," JJ reminded her. "I honestly thought you were going to use your gun on him. Which he totally would have deserved, by the way. But then you grabbed two blueberry muffins, which I'm pretty sure is his favorite, from the caf on your way in this morning, so I assume you guys have worked it out." Emily regarded her friend shrewdly.

"Are you sure you're not a profiler?" she asked, laughing. "But yes, Hotch apologized and I accepted his apology. And now we're fine," she explained. "I mean, I'm still mad about what he did, but I forgave him when he talked it through with me."

"Good," JJ nodded, satisfied. It would not have been a good situation for anyone had Hotch and Prentiss come into the office today with their issues unresolved. "So what was his excuse?" JJ herself was pretty certain why Hotch had acted the way he had - _she_ wasn't as blind as either of her colleagues. But she was curious as to how Hotch had (or, more likely, hadn't), expressed that to Emily.

"Oh, typical male 'I wanted to protect you bs'," Emily rolled her eyes. "I'd like to think that the guys on our team are more enlightened, but clearly they're just cavemen like the rest of the male population."

"Well, Hotch has always been more protective of you than anyone, Em. Not like he doesn't think you can do your job, but he's just more careful about sending you into dangerous situations than he is with Morgan, or even Reid. And god knows Reid could use a little overprotection sometimes," JJ stated, and Emily looked at her in wonder.

"That's not true!" JJ laughed.

"Of course it is, Em. At least since you got the shit beat out of you in Colorado and he looked as if he was going to spontaneously implode on the other end of the headphones," both women grimaced at the memory. "He lets you do your job and take down Unsubs, he's just always a little more watchful of you than the others. He'd do the same to me if I were in the field more, I think," JJ mused.

"Well, he swore that he would never pull me off a case or take me out of an interview like that ever again," Emily told the blonde agent. "I guess he can watch me if he wants, but I'm not going to stop doing my job. I don't need his protection," Emily added, starting to sound repetitive in her own head. "Well who says all his watching is extra protection? Sometimes I think he just likes the way ya look in a nice pant suit," JJ teased, and Emily could feel her face heating up.

"I'm sorry, are you insinuating something sexual about me and our boss, or are you insulting my wardrobe?" Emily asked drolly, and JJ smiled.

"Both, actually."

"Well, thanks on the second count, and _so_ far from the truth on the first!" Emily kept her voice low, lest anyone hear the embarrassing conversation.

"Oh my god, Emily. Come on! You guys spend so much alone time - together - that even Reid has noticed something is going on!"

"Nothing is going on!" Emily protested. "We're friends, JJ. That's it. Are people seriously talking about it?" she asked with a hint of panic.

"Don't worry, we've just noticed that you guys have become a lot closer recently. In a platonic sense," JJ added, to placate her friend. "But you don't ever think of him...in that way? I mean, he's a sexy dude with a badge and gun, just your type. Although, without Mick Rawson's sexy British accent," JJ said with fake sadness.

"JJ! Stop prying," Emily said with an exasperated sigh. "He's my boss, for godsakes! He's Aaron Hotchner!"

"You do realize that neither of those things you just said were, "no, I never think about my boss Aaron Hotchner in a sexy-time kind of way", don't you?" JJ raised her eyebrows at the brunette.

"I can NOT believe you just said sexy-time in relation to Hotch," Emily gasped. "And can you please keep it down? I really don't need anyone overhearing this."

"Denial, not just a river in Egypt," JJ commented. "Look, Em. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that you guys have some sort of connection going on. When we're on cases, you guys can practically read each other's minds, you finish each other's sentences, you're just on the same wavelength. You're starting to spend time together out of the office. Jack adores you. And, neither of you have gotten any in like, _years_," JJ added, causing Emily to swat at her.

"Well what makes you think he's interested in me?" Emily attempted to keep her voice challenging and flippant, but a hint of good ol' female vulnerability shone through, and JJ gave a triumphant yelp.

"I _knew_ it! Emily Prentiss, you cannot hide from me!" At Emily's panicked expression, the blonde quickly lowered her voice. "I knew it, though. I did! Em, you like Hotch! You _like_ _like _him!"

"What are you, ten?" Emily grumbled humorlessly. "You make me sound so pathetic. I do not _like like_ him," she hissed. "All it is is that recently I've begun to think it might be nice to go to dinner or something. He's good company," she added hastily. "And he wouldn't care if I had to cancel because of a case."

"Sweetie, you need to wake up and smell the manly man in front of you," JJ spoke as if to a small child. "You want to date Hotch! You want to go out to dinner with him and take him home and ravish him on your sadly underused king-size bed!"

"JJ!" Emily's blush was full-on at this point. "That is _not_ what I said!"

"Oh, come on, Em. Those dark, brooding eyes? That jawline? And you've seen those muscles in action. You'd only be human to want to get a piece of that," JJ's eyes sparkled as her friend gave a moan and clapped her hands to her face in agony.

"You're literally killing me," Emily's voice was muffled from behind her hands. "I would rather be dead than be having this conversation."

"Okay, I thought you were a goth in high school, not a drama queen," JJ stated, laughing. "It's not the end of the world, Emily! You like a guy - deal with it!"

"But what if he doesn't like me back?" Emily's whine came from behind her hands, followed by a moan. "Good god, I'm pathetic."

"Yeah, but it's endearing," JJ teased. "And, Em? I really don't think you have anything to worry about. I'd wager some good money that Hotch himself is entertaining the same types of feelings for you. Hence the pulling you off the case in Portland and subsequent blowout."

"That was because we're friends, JJ,"

"You really believe that? I guess you might, seeing as you never catch him stealing glances at you every other second, which he does by the way," JJ said slyly.

"Does not," Emily still hadn't emerged from behind her hands. If she had, she might have noticed that the very man in question was in fact coming towards the two women. JJ's back was to him, but Emily would have had a clear view of his approaching frame.

"Fine, don't believe me. But I know I'm right. You'll see," JJ remarked, smirking.

"JJ, it's Hotch we're talking about," Emily replied.

"Well, what were you saying?" A deep voice joined the conversation, and Emily instantly jolted out of her makeshift shelter, her face red.

"Oh!" Emily stuttered. Luckily, JJ swooped in to save the day.

"We were just saying that you must be coming over here with a case request rather than for a social call," JJ smiled sweetly at her boss. Hotch cocked his head for a second, as though he wasn't quite believing of the excuse, but then shook his head.

"Well, you are correct. Conference room in five," he said, holding up a file.

"Be right there," JJ responded, and when Hotch walked away turned back to her friend. "You owe me, lady."

"If it wasn't for you and your damn prying and matchmaking, that wouldn't have happened," Emily countered with a grimace. "Thank god he didn't hear anything else. I was just being stupid, that's all. Hotch and I are friends," she said, more to herself than to JJ. "We're good friends, and nothing more."

"Yet," JJ added, a twinkle in her eye as the two women headed up the stairs. Emily gave her a dark look and JJ held up her hands in surrender.

"Okay, okay, I'll stop. But, Em - think about it, okay? I think it would work out a lot better than you think it would. And I think it could be pretty great."

Emily said nothing, just took the stairs and settled into her customary chair - next to Hotch. Come to think of it, her customary seat on the airplane was next to Hotch too. And when they split up into cars - he drove and she was shotgun. Almost always. And he did always partner them up together. And when she suggested a movie after their Saturday dinners, he was always quick to agree, and always let her choose which one. Well shit, Emily thought. Maybe JJ is on to something. And if she is - well, what the hell am I supposed to do now?


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Lots of case-action in this one, and I promise that after this the Hotch/Prentiss will really start up. I've really appreciated all the feedback I've gotten, so please please keep up the comments!

And none of this belongs to me.

* * *

"Alright, we've got the address, let's head out," Hotch directed the team as they departed from the BAU offices. They had been called in on a local case, and Garcia had just given them a break as to where their Unsub was probably hiding out. The team moved quickly out the doors, and jumped into two vehicles. Hotch, Emily, and JJ had hopped into one car, Rossi, Morgan and Reid the other. The drive would take them about forty minutes if they caught some breaks with traffic, and all agents were eager to get to their destination quickly, as their Unsub was the only one who knew the location of the latest victim. If they got really lucky, the victim would be with the Unsub, and would still be alive.

"Thank god Garcia finally found us something," Emily muttered as Hotch merged onto the highway. "This guy is ridiculously difficult to profile. Nothing makes sense!" It had been a frustrating case - the details the profilers were able to find and tease out led to a very confused profile where every detail was contradicted by another.

"Well let's just hope we'll find him here," Hotch replied. "If not..."

"We'll have to look at the dump areas again..."

"And possibly triangulate," Hotch finished, while JJ rolled her eyes in the backseat, stifling a laugh. She hadn't been lying when she had told Emily she and the boss man were on the same wavelength - it was almost freaky sometimes. Personally, JJ was hoping for some sort of romantic entanglement for the two sooner rather than later; it had after all been a long time coming, she thought. And she really couldn't think of any two people more suited for each other. Emily was serious enough to match Hotch's emotional intensity, but she also brought a levity with her that Hotch (and Jack) would certainly benefit from. All in all, JJ was convinced that her two dark-haired coworkers were perfect for each other, but also quite possibly the two most romantically-clueless people she'd ever known. No matter, JJ decided. She'd prod both of them as long as she had to until some heavy action began to happen.

Soon enough, they had reached the remote area where the Unsub's parents had built a house. They had died years ago, subsequently leaving it to their son. The team gathered around, surrounded by various local law enforcement, and Hotch gave out directions. Just as he was about to assign his team members to different areas of the house to enter, a phone call came in.

"Hey my captain," she spouted cheerfully as Hotch picked up.

"Not now, Garcia," he warned.

"Okeydokey sir, duly noted. Just wanted to let you know that Captain Douglas here got a tip and picked up the guy you're looking for - Joshua Travers? at a bus station near the Capitol. The victim was nowhere to be found nearby, and the guy isn't talking," she explained quickly.

"Thanks, Garcia," Hotch gave a sigh of relief and hung up.

"Alright, it appears as though our Unsub isn't here. However, the victim still might be, and we don't know if he's left any traps or anything, so still tread carefully. Rossi, Reid, you go around back. Morgan, JJ, take the side door, and Prentiss and I will go through the front. Keep in communication," the boss added, and then nodded as the team dispersed. Emily followed Hotch through the yard and up the porch, guns drawn. They each got on a side of the door, and Hotch gave her a look then kicked in the door. It swung open easily, and making sure it was clear, Hotch lead Emily inside. Both were too preoccupied with the task at hand to hear the door slam shut behind them. It was only when Emily felt a presence behind her that she turned around - and was met with the face of their supposed Unsub, leering at her just before he struck her and the gun dropped from her hand. She had been startled, and it was relatively easy for the man to disarm her. Hearing the gun clatter to the floor and Emily's yelp, Hotch turned around to see a man identical to the pictures of their Unsub holding Emily's wrist menacingly, pulling her body flush with his. He was strong - he handled Emily with ease, and she quickly realized that she was pretty damn defenseless.

"Don't even think about calling for back-up," the man threatened.

"Let her go, Joshua," Hotch said, his voice low, adrenaline pumping through his veins immediately, his heart pounding.

"Joshua? No, no, sir, you've got it wrong," the man sneered. "That would be my twin brother, the idiot," A light of understanding dawned on Emily and Hotch - twins. Two unsubs. Now the contradictory profile began to make much more sense. Although, of course, that information would have been much more helpful a few hours ago. Less so now that one twin had two agents trapped in a stand-off of sorts.

"Okay, well I can tell you that we have Joshua. He's down at Quantico. It's over, okay? You need to let her go," Hotch's voice was measured, calm, but inside his heart was beating faster than he thought possible. The house was large, and spread out - no one was close enough to hear what was going on, and he was worried what would happen if someone crashed into the room and startled this guy.

"Yeah, that's not gonna happen," the man gave a laugh. As he did, he loosened the grip on Emily's arm slightly, and she used that to her advantage as she whirled around and socked him in the gut as she kneed him in the crotch. She twisted out his grasp, no easy feat, and ran toward Hotch. In a moment of weakness, the boss had lowered his gun as Emily came toward him, and though the man had been temporarily brought down by the force of Emily's blows, he was up again quickly - this time with Emily's gun in his hand. He shot twice in their direction before Morgan came bursting through the door behind him and fired off a fatal shot. They watched as the man fell to the ground, his body lifeless. It all happened within a matter of seconds, though of course for Emily and Hotch it felt as though the seconds had stretched on for hours. Both were bewildered.

"Hotch! You're bleeding, man," Morgan said, moving quickly over to his team members. Hotch frowned, then felt a sticky substance on his temple. Emily gave out a deflated shout when she saw the blood coursing down the side of his head.

"It's okay, it's just a graze," he said, his voice strong. It hurt like a bitch, but he knew that he needed to remain calm and strong, both for himself and for his team. And it wasn't that much blood, he could feel. He was certainly going to be all right. "Are you okay?" he turned to Emily, and looked her up and down. "Did he hurt you?"

"No, Hotch, I'm fine. But you need to get that looked at!" Emily said, her voice strained. Hotch nodded.

"Yeah, Hotch, let's get you to a hospital, man. Shit, this coulda been bad," Morgan cursed.

"We were completely unprepared," Emily said. "How did we not know that it was twins? There were only records for one son!"

"I don't know, but it's over now," Hotch's usual stoic demeanor had returned after the momentary panic-stricken minutes previously. "We need to get back to the station and see what Joshua himself can tell us. Clearly he wasn't the one perpetrating the violent crimes, which makes much more sense now that we know there was an other Unsub."

"Hotch, you are not going back to the station like that," JJ said, having heard their boss's previous statement as the team regrouped by the cars. "You need to get that cleaned up and bandaged."

"JJ," Hotch began impatiently. "There's still a woman missing."

"Right," Rossi took charge. "JJ, why don't you take Hotch to the hospital? The rest of us will head back and deal with Joshua." The group nodded their assent, save for Hotch who was grumbling to himself.

"Aaron, just shut up and get your head taken care of, okay?" Rossi gave him a look, and Hotch silenced himself, and took a quick look around the circle. He landed on Emily's face, saw the concern etched there, saw her nervous tick of biting her lip, and agreed, following JJ to one of the cars.

"Statistically, head wounds look much worse than they actually are," Reid brought up as the agents watched their leader get into the car, his jacket held up to his head as a compress. "He'll be fine."

"Shit, I still can't believe it," Morgan let out. "Thank god he didn't hit either of you," he said to Emily, who swallowed and nodded.

"I didn't even hear him," she said. "All of a sudden, he just had me. I should have looked behind the door. I should have done that immediately. Then Hotch wouldn't be bleeding out his head at the moment," she said bitterly.

"Don't do that, Em," Morgan said sternly. "It's not your fault. Besides, I'm pretty sure Hotch would argue that a scrape on his head was a small price to pay for your safety." He looked at her appraisingly, and then his gaze landed on his wrist. "Oh, come on! Emily, your wrist!" Emily looked down. Her wrist was ballooning up, and was already turning a weird purple color.

"I must have twisted it when I pulled away," she said, surprised. "I didn't even feel this."

"Alright, let's get you to the hospital," Rossi sighed. Immediately Emily began to protest, but Rossi silenced her quickly.

"Emily!" he roared. "Good god, get in the car. You and Hotch, I swear to god, the two most stubborn people in this world," he muttered. "Speaking of Hotch, I'm pretty sure the boss man isn't going to be too happy if you choose to ignore that injury," he gestured to her wrist, and looked at her imploringly. "Might even put you on desk duty."

"Fine," Emily muttered. "And I am _not _ as stubborn as Hotch!" She got in the car begrudgingly, and as the door shut behind her Rossi turned to Morgan.

"She's right," Morgan said, grinning. "She's _more_ stubborn than Hotch, I think. When are those two hard-headed idiots going to realize they're meant for each other?"


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Some real Emily/Hotch action, finally! It's kind of...fluffy in a way, and I'm more paranoid than ever about it feeling OOC. So, please continue to comment and let me know how I'm doing! Thanks for reading, all.

I don't own any of it.

* * *

It had been a long day, Hotch thought to himself as he put spaghetti and meatball leftovers into Tupperware and washed up the dishes from dinner. His head had been bandaged at the hospital - no stitches needed, and though there was a constant dull throb like the doctor predicted, some ibuprofen had all but taken care of the pain. Jack had been a little alarmed at the sight of his father coming in with a huge pad of gauze on his head, but had quickly realized that his father was indeed alright, and was now tucked into bed and hopefully asleep. Hotch had just washed the last pot and placed it on the drying rack when he heard a soft knock at his door. Curiously, he made his way to the living room and looked through the peephole. He was surprised to see Emily standing there in the hall, but a surge of something kind of like happiness and kind of like relief came upon him, and he opened the door. Emily raised her head, looked at Hotch, and walked in wordlessly. When he turned around after shutting the door behind her, Emily immediately enveloped Hotch. He instinctively wrapped his arms around her small frame, and she curled up, resting her head against his chest. They exchanged no words, just stood there, together. Hotch could tell that Emily was tense, and he took the opportunity to rub small circles on her back until he could feel her relax in his arms.

Emily could hear Hotch's heartbeat, right where she had rested her head, and the sound reassured her greatly. She'd allowed Rossi to take her to the hospital, and had remained uncharacteristically quiet while the doctors examined her wrist, determined it sprained but not broken, and had wrapped said joint up in a tight Ace bandage with strict orders to alternate ice and heat packs. At her request, Dave had driven her back to the BAU so she could work on some paperwork (Joshua Travers had been dealt with by Morgan and Reid, successfully). She'd been restless, worried, wanting to text Hotch but not quite sure what to say. Finally, she had packed up early, files in her bag, and had headed home where she had spent the last few hours moving aimlessly around her apartment, making soup but deciding she wasn't hungry, and replaying the terrifying moments in which she had gotten Hotch shot earlier in the day through her head ad nausaeum. Finally, fed up with herself, agitated, and still worried about her boss, she had found herself in his hallway, knocking on his door, wishing beyond belief that he'd answer.

After a hug that stretched minutes, Emily pulled away reluctantly.

"I'm sorry," she began. "I just wanted to make sure that you were alright. I just needed to see. After last time - " she cut herself off as she saw Hotch's gaze grow concerned.

"I understand, Prentiss. But I'm fine, I promise," he gave her a small smile, which she only barely returned. "Emily?" The woman sighed, and sat down. Hotch followed her lead, sitting next to her on the couch.

"It was all my fault," she blurted. "Hotch, I should have checked behind me immediately, that was my responsibility as second one in. But I didn't. And I shouldn't have run towards you once I got free, I was standing between you and him and you wouldn't have been able to shoot him if you needed to, and because I ran toward you, you lowered your gun and he was able to shoot, and it was all my fault." The two agents regarded each other for a moment; her eyes were welling up and she willed them to stop, he looking at her with tenderness.

"Emily," he said softly. "Please don't blame yourself."

"How can I not, Hotch? You were _this close_ to taking a bullet to the brain, and not only was there nothing I could do to save you, it was because of my stupidity that you were in that situation in the first place!" Her voice was slightly frantic, and she could feel the tears in her eyes threatening to escape.

"Emily," Hotch's voice was louder now, and strong. "Look at me," he instructed, and she slowly raised her lowered eyes to meet his. He wanted to take her hand but didn't dare. "It was _not _your fault. Either one of us could have looked behind the door, but I didn't either. You could have gone in first, he could have disarmed me. _You_ were shot at too," he reminded her.

"I know, but - "

"No buts, Emily. That's too risky a game to play in our line of work. What's important is that I'm fine, save a little headache. We were in a shitty situation, but we're both okay now, right?" Emily nodded slightly. "Good god, when he had you in his hands," Hotch swallowed, hard. "The reason that I lowered my gun, Emily, was because when you got free and ran towards me, all I wanted to do was grab you and get you the hell out of there. I wasn't even thinking of getting John Travers, or finding the victim. The only thought in my head was making sure that you were okay. I made that mistake. I lowered my gun, and he shot at me - at us. But it could have been a lot worse. Do not blame yourself," he said forcefully. It was quiet for a moment, and Emily took a deep breath.

"Thanks, Hotch," she was finally able to give him a little smile. "I'm really, really glad you're okay," she said sincerely, reaching a hand up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. As she did so, her sleeve fell down and exposed the bandage wrapped around her wrist.

"Prentiss, what is that?" Hotch inquired sternly. "Were you injured today? And no one saw fit to tell me?" His eyes were dark and he didn't look happy.

"Relax, Hotch, it's just a sprain," Emily explained. "I didn't even notice it until after you and JJ drove off. And yes, I got it checked out and everything. And it's my left arm, so it's not even really that bothersome."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Hotch, the nurse wrapped me up, told me to use ice and heat packs, and sent me on my merry way within a matter of minutes. It's not quite a bullet wound," she said pointedly, looking up at his head. Hotch rolled his eyes.

"Yes, well, I'd be willing to bet that you have not in fact been icing that wrist as you were instructed to," Hotch looked at her challengingly, and Emily blushed. How did he know her so well? "Damnit, Emily. Stay here," Hotch sighed wearily, while Emily remained on the couch, feeling like a little girl scolded. It was funny how the tables had turned - how it was him who was making sure she took care of herself. For the past year or so, the dynamic had been very different - Emily checking in regularly to make sure that Hotch's stab wounds were healing, that he was taking his medicine and eating right and sleeping enough and all the other things he was supposed to be doing but in all probability wouldn't be if not for the careful eye of Emily Prentiss.

Hotch returned with a bag of frozen peas and a towel for Emily, two Advil and a glass of water for himself. Emily dutifully took the peas, wrapped them in the towel, and placed it on her aching wrist. The relief was immediate - of course, she should have been doing this all along, but she had had bigger things to worry about.

"Thanks, Hotch," she said gratefully, and the man nodded to say of course. He took his seat next to the woman, and clicked on the television in front of them.

"You're staying here until I'm sure you're taking care of that wrist," he said in response to her unasked question, eyes still trained on the TV. He swung his arm onto the couch behind him, indirectly around Emily, who in turn moved unconsciously closer to her boss.

An hour later, Hotch started awake due to an explosion on the screen before him. It took him a second to realize he was on the couch, not in his bed, and the soft warmth he felt on him was Emily. It seemed as though she had fallen asleep too, and had snuggled up onto Hotch's side, her knees in her lap. One of her arms was wrapped around his body, the other tucked under her chin. All in all, Hotch decided that she looked pretty adorable. He snuck a glance at the clock - 11:15pm. Not late to a normal person, but given the day they'd had, he knew Emily needed to get home soon or else she'd be spending the night. Not that that would be entirely unpleasant - Hotch quickly pushed that thought out of his mind.

"Emily," he said softly, and she stirred against him. "Emily, wake up. It's getting late." Giving a groan, Emily sat up groggily. She rubbed her eyes, and then realized her position in relation to the man next to her.

"Oh, Hotch, I'm sorry! I must have moved in my sleep," she explained bashfully.

"It's alright," Hotch chuckled. "But I think it's time you went home and got some real sleep," he said.

"Definitely," Emily rubbed her neck. "Thanks for everything tonight," she said sincerely, standing and heading out.

"Of course," he said, moving past her and opening the door. All of a sudden Emily came flying towards him - she had tripped on one of Jack's legos that Hotch had sworn he had asked the boy to pick up numerous times. Reflexes still strong despite the head wound, Hotch reached out and grabbed the brunette.

"Shit!" she exclaimed as she tumbled into him. Shit, she thought to herself as her eyes met his and all of a sudden, she knew what was going to happen before it did, but she couldn't believe it.

Both parties leaned forward ever so slightly, Emily still unsteady and in Hotch's arms. His hand was on the small of her back, and he used it almost imperceptibly to guide her closer to him. It was a sweet kiss, light at first and then a little more pressure was added - by whom, it was impossible to tell. Emily let out a tiny sigh into his lips, and all too soon the chaste kiss had ended, and Hotch had righted Emily back to her feet.

"Goodnight, Emily," he said, his voice clear and typical, no explanation given as to what had just happened other than a small smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"Goodnight," Emily said dazed, and then cleared her throat. She regarded Hotch for a second, saw his dimple emerge as he gave her a smile, and let out a laugh of wonder as she spun and walked out the open door.

"Hey Emily," Hotch called. "Would you like to come have dinner here tomorrow night?" The kiss had ignited in him some courage finally, and he was milking it for all it was worth. Luckily, Emily turned and flashed him a dazzling, still slightly surprised smile.

"Of course," she said before continuing down the hall. As if she would have given any other answer.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N So, it's the night of Emily & Hotch's dinner! What will transpire? Let me know what you think when you're done reading - the feedback I've gotten has been really helpful and definitely has given me the push to keep writing. We're on chapter 8 here and this story looks like it'll hit 11 or 12 chapters, so we're nearing the end, but I do really appreciate your continued reviews.

I own nothing!

* * *

"Prentiss," Emily answered her phone. To her surprise, it was Hotch - she was currently on his way to his apartment for the dinner for which she'd been invited. She was completely excited, kind of nervous, and totally thrown off balance given the kiss they had shared the night before. During the day, work had been completely normal. They had exchanged pleasantries over coffee, but other than that weren't really allowed much contact due to meetings and paperwork and the like. Which seemed to work out for the best, as it seemed as though Emily was much more efficient and able to concentrate the further away Hotch was.

"Emily, listen, I'm sorry but Jack has begun to throw up," he announced without ceremony. "So I don't think we'll be able to do dinner tonight." Was that disappointment she heard in his voice?

"Oh, poor little guy! Hotch, I'm already on my way, I'll be there in a few minutes," she responded, maternal instinct kicking in.

"You really don't have to come over here, Emily. It's not pretty."

"I'm coming to help you, Hotch. Be there in five."

True to her word, five minutes later Emily reached the door of Hotch's apartment to find it unlocked; she was only a few steps into the house when the sound of Jack's cries reached her ears. She set her purse down and followed the sound - interspersed with the deep voice of his father - to the bathroom. There, she found the littlest Hotchner sitting in the empty bathtub, naked from the waist up, and sobbing. The elder Hotchner was straddling the tub, one hand pressing a wet cloth to his son's forehead, the other attempting to wipe up some vomit from the floor. At the sound of her heels on the wood floor, Hotch turned around and looked at his colleague gratefully.

"Hi," he greeted her, sounding exhausted.

"Hi," she replied, not able to stop the big smile from spreading over her face. "How's it going here?" she raised her eyebrows at the scene in front of her.

"Not great," Hotch admitted. "He's thrown up three times in the past hour, but not for a while now. I don't know what to do, Emily. I've never had to deal with this before," he admitted, looking pained.

"It's okay, Hotch. Why don't you first go take off that disgusting shirt you're wearing and change into something not covered in puke?" she suggested. "I've got him," she nodded towards the five year old. Hotch looked down at his clothes and agreed, and Emily took his place next to the tub. Jack was still miserable, sobbing, and Emily knew she had to calm him down. There was really only one thing to do.

"Hey buddy," she said, climbing into the tub with the little boy. "It's okay, sweetheart. Come here," she held out her arms and Jack crawled into them. She took the washcloth Hotch had been using and placed it on the back of Jack's neck. She rubbed slow circles on his little back, and slowly but surely Jack's sobs turned to hiccups.

"Are you feeling a little better, Jack?" Emily asked softly, brushing his hair away from his warm forehead.

"Yeah but my froat still hurts," Jack said, tears in his eyes. "I want my mommy." Emily's heart shattered into a million pieces, as did that of Hotch, who had just come back and was standing in the doorway. He froze when he heard his son's request. Luckily, Emily recovered more quickly.

"I know, buddy. I know," Emily soothed him. "But you know she's up with the angels, and she can't come down to see us. But she's watching you from up there. And she loves you very much," Emily said with conviction, and then turned as she realized Hotch had re-entered the room.

"Thank you," he said hoarsely, giving her a sad smile.

"Of course," she returned softly, then shifted her attention back to the boy in her arm. "Hey Jack, what do you say we go lay down and see if that makes us feel better?" Then she turned once more to Hotch. "If he hasn't thrown up in a bit, I think we should get him into bed, give him some medicine," she explained. Hotch nodded and bent down to pick up his son.

It took about a half hour to get Jack settled in his bed (a bowl conveniently placed on his nightstand), dosed with some children's Tylenol, and within minutes of Emily reading to him, the little boy was fast asleep. He still felt warm, so Emily placed a cool washcloth on his forehead to keep him comfortable.

"I'm so sorry about this evening, Emily," Hotch said as they collapsed on the couch.

"Hotch, Jack got sick. That definitely takes precedence over - " she stopped when she realized she was about to say "our date". She wasn't sure that's what it was, exactly, and didn't want to be presumptuous. "Over anything," she finished after a slight hesitation.

"Would you like to stay if I ordered some pizza?"

"I'd stay even if you didn't order pizza," Emily said without thinking, then immediately cursed her god-given bluntness. She gave an audible sigh, but when she looked over at Hotch she relaxed a bit as she spotted the corners of his mouth were turned up and a faint pink tinted his handsome face.

"This is kind of weird," Hotch said all of a sudden, succinctly summing up Emily's feelings on the matter as well. So well, in fact, that she gave a big laugh.

"I know! God, what the hell is wrong with us?" she asked rhetorically.

"Well, I'm emotionally stunted, and you," he said, pointing at her, "are a total nerd." It was nice to see Hotch relaxed like this. If someone had told her that Aaron Hotchner had a great (albeit dry) sense of humor when she first started at the BAU, Emily would have looked at said person as if they had grown another head on the spot. But, throughout the years and in the past one in particular, that side of her boss had been exposed to Emily, and she often found herself laughing while in his company. It was almost a shame, she thought, that he wasn't like that in the office - although, of course, in their line of work there wasn't much to be funny about.

"Plus there's the whole we-work-together thing," Emily added. "Imagine if Strauss found out what we were doing." Hotch looked at her for a second, and then asked the ever-present question.

"What _are _we doing?" he sounded genuinely puzzled, and Emily gave him a small smile.

"I'm not sure," she admitted. "And I'm not really worried about it at the moment. What I'm most concerned about is getting us some pizza and seeing if anything good is on." There would be a time and a place for a talk about feelings, Emily was sure, but it didn't need to happen now. The kiss the night before had assured both that the other was on the same page, but Aaron Hotchner was a man of few words, and Emily didn't feel any particular need to make him tell her out loud how he felt until, well, until he was ready and wanted to. The last thing she wanted was for them to rush into this - whatever it was - and fuck it up. He wasn't right when he called himself emotionally stunted, but he had had a trying year, and his wounds from the ordeal with Foyet weren't all physical. For her part, Emily knew how she felt, but was hesitant too, just as he was, to put those feelings into words - she had been burned before. And while she didn't like to equate Hotch to the men she'd been with in the past, it was still hard to let go of some of that old fear and vulnerability.

"Emily?" Aaron's deep voice broke her thoughts. "I called in the order - mushrooms, olives, and peppers, right?" Emily nodded, smiling. For now, this was perfect.

Two hours, a pizza, and a few check-ups on the slumbering Jack later, Hotch and Emily had found a Hitchcock marathon that was on, and were now watching Vertigo - Emily's favorite Hitchcock, she had told him. He had filed that away in his memory; sure it would come in use again someday. It was perfectly comfortable, Hotch couldn't help but noting. The initial awkwardness had passed, and now they were back to basics - two friends, hanging out, watching a movie. Sure, there was the added element of increased physical contact, but he definitely wasn't complaining about that. Hell, if anything, he wished there was more of it! But he respected Emily, and he respected their relationship (or whatever the hell it was), and besides, he was _way_ out of practice on matters such as these. The last time he had felt nervous about kissing a girl was the junior prom. Suffice to say, he was entering into unknown territory, and the fact that it was with Emily Prentiss was simultaneously terrifying and reassuring.

"Hotch?" He looked down at the woman whose head was resting on his chest. He raised his eyebrows expectantly. "Do you want to come out with the team tomorrow? I know you usually say no to these types of things, but JJ and Garcia planned a night out tomorrow, and I think it'd be really fun," she offered. It was true, he usually did say no to the team outings - before it had been because his dark mood hadn't really been conducive to a fun, successful social outing, but now he often had to decline in favor of spending time with Jack, though recently he had begun to actually feel like a night out with his teammates would be just what he needed.

"Are you sure you guys want me to come? You're all aware I'm a known killjoy," he joked.

"I want you to come," Emily said sincerely, her eyes finding his. She reached her hand up behind his neck and pulled him to her, and their second kiss had started as sweetly as their first. Her lips were soft against his, and he responded enthusiastically, adding more pressure. One of his hands was in her hair, the other resting lightly on her stomach. Their first kiss had lasted what seemed like a millisecond, but this second one stretched much longer. It was only when air became a necessity that they pulled away from each other. Hotch took a deep breath, and took in the woman who had just sent shocks running through his entire body. Her lips were slightly swollen, and her cheeks pink. In a word, she was beautiful.

"For someone who claims to be out of practice, you're pretty good at that," Emily said slyly, placing her head back on his chest, turning her attention again to the television. Hotch only gave a noncommittal grunt in response, he was far too busy trying to regulate his heartbeat, which was going pretty damn fast. So fast that as it thumped against his chest, and therefore Emily's head, a small, satisfied smile crept over her face. A girl could really get used to this.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: So the team at a club with dancing and alcohol - slightly cliche, I'm sure, but I think you guys will like it! As always, your reviews are very much appreciated, so please keep them coming.

I don't own anything related to CM

* * *

"Look at you, girl!" Morgan gave a whistle as Emily reached the table with most of her coworkers. Garcia had picked a great place - not too crowded, but the music selection so far was promising, and Emily had spied a sign advertising a variety of $3 shots. At Morgan's whistle, Emily blushed, and tried to covertly glance around the table for Hotch.

"He's not here yet," a voice in her ear whispered.

"What? JJ, I wasn't-"

"Oh, save it!" The blonde laughed. "Seriously though, you look bangin', lady!" The praise was nice to hear because Emily had spent about three hundred hours in front of her closet this afternoon, trying to decide what was too slutty, what was slutty enough to give Hotch the (correct) impression that she wanted to make out with him, and what should have been donated to Goodwill sometime in the 1980s. She had finally settled on a simple black t-shirt with a bit of lace around the bottom, skinny jeans, and black heels.

"Thanks," Emily said, wringing her hands together nervously. And then she decided that she could trust JJ, and decided to give up the pretext of indifference. "Hotch here yet?"

"Not yet, but I did send him a reminder text. Figured you'd be too nervous to," JJ said with a sly smile.

"Thanks, JJ," Emily said gratefully. "I don't know why I'm so nervous. I mean, we've already kissed. Twice!" she said under her breath, but of course that comment did not go unnoticed. JJ's eyes grew wide and she gave a girlish squeal.

"Emily! Ohmygod, spill immediately!"

"Spill what?" The boyish voice of Spencer Reid piped up over Emily's shoulder.

"Nevermind!" Emily practically yelped. "Let's go get a drink. Reid, want anything?"

"I was actually hoping that one of you would enlighten me as to what drink I could order that would make me seem more masculine," the young profiler stated. "Last time, I ordered a pina colada, delicious by the way, but I think the girl I was talking to took that as some sort of preconceived, and erroneous, societal sign that I was homosexual," he explained, causing JJ and Emily to burst into laughter as they dragged him to the bar.

When the trio returned to the table (Cranberry Vodkas for the ladies, and a very sophisticated gin and tonic for Reid), Hotch and Rossi had both arrived. Garcia and Morgan had hit the dance floor, and were shaking away to Billie Jean.

"Hey guys!" JJ greeted the men enthusiastically.

"Garcia said to tell you that there are a few hot, totally eligible bachelors on the other side of the dance floor," Rossi quoted, rolling his eyes.

"Yes, she was very clear that you all know," Hotch remarked dryly. "Although they seem to be a little more, em, Kevin-like than either of you might go for."

"You know our types, Hotch?" JJ raised an eyebrow.

"Well, he could statistically figure yours out, JJ, as he could easily find similarities between Kyle, that guy you dated when you first joined the BAU, Sam, who you dated in 2003, and Will," Reid rationalized, causing JJ to give him a light smack. "Although it would be near impossible to figure out Emily's type as she has never been forthcoming as to her dating. Or even if she does," Reid added with a hint of humor - surprisingly, he could pull out a quick quip at times. This comment of course earned him another smack, this time from Emily.

"I date," Emily hissed. "I just don't like to talk about it. Possibly because I don't want you drawing up statistics on my type!"

"Well, if _I_ had to guess," JJ said with a smirk. "I'd say Emily's all about tall, dark, and handsome. Em?" Both Emily and Hotch could feel crimson creeping up their cheeks. Luckily, the bar was dark, and neither noticed the other's discomfort.

"Something like that," Emily muttered, directing a swift kick at JJ's ankle. Then, she grasped the only lifeline she had left - escape. "Come on, let's dance," she said, looking at her friends.

"Be there in a minute. I'm just gonna text Will real quick," JJ said. "Hotch, you going?" she prodded.

"I don't really dance," he said, slightly uncomfortable. "I'm good right here."

"Suit yourself!" Emily called over the music as she grabbed Reid and pulled him out onto the dance floor.

"Emily looks very nice tonight," Rossi commented innocently. "Don't you think, Aaron?"

"I'm going to get a beer," Hotch replied. "Want one?" Rossi nodded, and Hotch disappeared before the conversation could be continued.

"Dave - do you..._know_?" JJ asked as soon as Hotch was out of earshot.

"Know what?" he asked, his eyes on a beautiful woman who had just sat down at the bar.

"About Hotch and Emily," JJ said with urgency. She should have known she'd have an ally in Rossi! At the mention of his colleagues' names, Dave snapped his attention back to JJ.

"You know?" he said incredulously. "What do you know?" JJ laughed.

"Such a gossip, David Rossi," she scolded. "All I know is that out dear Emily wouldn't be opposed to a little something-something from our fearless leader. What do _you_ know?"

"Just what I've noticed," he remarked. "Which seems to be that our dear leader wouldn't be opposed to a, how did you put it, a little something-something from sweet Emily."

"Excellent!" JJ could barely contain her glee. "It would be so wonderful to see them both actually happy for once. Just keep Hotch out tonight, Dave. I have a feeling that tonight's the night!"

An hour later found Hotch playing wingman to Dave as he tried (mostly successfully, Hotch had to concede) to seduce a thirty-something Capitol Hill secretary. Morgan and Garcia were dancing even more wildly, and to no one's surprise, Morgan had attracted quite a little crowd around him. Emily, JJ, and Reid were out there on the dance floor as well, looking tamer than their coworkers but certainly more relaxed than Hotch. He'd seen JJ persuade Emily and Reid to take a few rounds of tequila shots, which had really loosened them up. Much to the girls delight, a shy looking young woman had approached Reid and asked if she had seen him speak at her university. The two had talked for a while and were now dancing together, as JJ and Emily looked on with glee. Hotch was just about to interrupt Dave and tell him he was heading out when he saw a man approach Emily and ask her to dance. As he watched her accept the invitation, his body tensed. Who the hell was this clown? His eyes filled with jealousy as he watched Emily begin to move her hips in time with this other guy's. Hotch couldn't stand it. He couldn't take his eyes away - hadn't been able to take them off of Emily the entire night, did she know what that outfit was doing to him? But looking at this guy's hand inching closer to her ass was really more than he could bear.

"Well why don't you just do something about it?" a voice in his ear inquired, and Hotch whipped around to see Dave looking at him in bemusement, the secretary presumably having gone to get more drinks.

"What?"

"Hotch, your eyes are burning holes in that guy's head. Why don't you get off your ass and go ask Emily if she'd like a damn dance?"

"I don't dance, Dave," Hotch replied, glancing back on instinct to where Emily was now making full bodily contact with the other man. Could blood actually boil?

"Bullshit. Listen, Aaron, it looks like you have two options. One: let Emily dance the night away with Romeo over there, and then go home upset, angry, and horny as hell. Option two: swallow your pride, go over there, ask the woman you're interested in to dance, and go home happy, satisfied, and possibly with a companion. Does that even seem like a choice to you?" Hotch rolled his eyes.

"Noted," he said sarcastically, but he stood up nonetheless. Though he'd never admit it, Dave was right. Downing the rest of his drink for some liquid courage, and acting much more confident than he felt, Hotch made his way onto the dance floor.

"Emily," he practically had to shout. "Emily!" She turned around, and then her face lit up. She leaned up and whispered something to the guy she was dancing with, who then glanced at Hotch, nodded, and turned to dance with Garcia, who had popped up next to Emily.

"I thought you didn't dance," her voice was teasing. Emily had welcomed JJ's tequila shot suggestion, and though she wasn't totally drunk, she was definitely a little tipsy.

"I can't, actually," Hotch admitted, and Emily gave him a large smile.

"It's easy, really," she said, putting her small hands on his hips and moving forward. "You just move your hips like this," she said, guiding his with her hands and pressing herself into him. Hotch gave an audible swallow. Emily looked at him questioningly.

"You look very nice, Emily," he said into her ear. "What you're wearing," he said, gesturing down to her tight fitting jeans and the heels that made her legs seem extraordinarily long. "It's uh, very flattering."

"Well thanks, Hotch," Emily said, giving him a sultry smile. "You don't look too bad yourself," her voice was light, flirtatious, and Hotch couldn't really believe that this was actually happening - that he was on a dance floor in a popular bar, with a slightly drunk and altogether flirty Emily Prentiss in his arms. The most incredulous part, however, was that he was having fun. He was enjoying himself. Possibly a little too much, he noted, as Emily's body began to grind against his.

"Is that your gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" As the words came out of her mouth, Emily had the wherewithal to realize that yep, the tequila had had the intended effect, yep, her inhibitions were definitely lowered, and yep, she had just said something completely sexual to her boss. And, she was okay with it. They'd kissed. Twice. She wanted it. She was more than fifty percent sure he wanted it. The odds were in her favor, and Emily had never been one to walk away from even unfavorable odds.

At her words, Hotch's throat constricted and he kind of forgot how to breathe. Shit. He put his arms on hers and pulled her away from him.

"Emily," he said, his voice hoarse.

"Oh, you're no fun!" she pouted, crossing her arms and glancing at the sudden space between them. She'd been really enjoying the feel of his strong chest against hers. "I guess I'll just have to go find Brian again," she gave a dramatic sigh. "Because his was _definitely_ not a gun."

"No," he said with force, closing the distance between them. "You're dancing with me," he said shortly.

"Well, well," she said as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Feeling possessive, are we Agent Hotchner?"

"Like you'd let anyone claim you, Agent Prentiss," he said with a chuckle, growing more comfortable with both the dancing and the close proximity to Emily.

"I don't know about _that_. I can think of one man who I might let leave his mark on me," emboldened by his retort and perhaps the last tequila shot landing squarely in her bloodstream, Emily stood on her tip-toes and pressed her lips right up to his ear. "Are you up for the challenge, _Aaron_?"

His knees buckled and he was unsure as to whether or not his heart was still working. Well, this just proved what her wandering hands on his stomach suggested - she was trying to kill him. And succeeding.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Sorry for the slight delay, but I was without my computer for a bit. But, here's the next installment - just 2 more chapters after this one and this story will be finished! As always, I really appreciate your comments, so thanks to everyone who has taken the time to leave me some! Please keep 'em coming!

So drunk Emily and loosened-up Hotch have left the club...what could possibly happen next?

I own nothing.

* * *

"Would you like to come in for some coffee?" Emily's voice was sweet and friendly, but he could see something a little more than simple friendliness in her gaze, and Hotch nodded, her whispered words at the club still fresh in his mind. Burned there, actually. It was a side of her he'd never seen before. He'd first seen Emily Prentiss as an agent, competent perhaps but not someone he particularly trusted. Then, she'd been a valued colleague, a gifted profiler, and a member of the team. And then, she'd moved further into his life. She'd been a friend, a smart, sarcastic, witty woman who taught him how to cook and made his son laugh. And now she was this Emily - this sexy, confident, aggressive Emily. And he'd now have trouble seeing her any other way.

"Yes," he answered, following her into her apartment. They'd remained at the bar long enough to see Reid and the girl he'd been chatting with all night leave together, had taken a celebratory shot in the young man's honor, and then the two agents had made their escape as well. Emily had planned on taking a taxi home as she was still a little less than sober, but being the gentleman he was, Hotch had offered her a ride, which she had accepted gratefully. And then, she had gone and invited him in for coffee. They'd had coffee together a million times, so on the surface this time shouldn't feel any different - the air between them shouldn't be quite so tense. But, of course, this wasn't having coffee, Hotch reminded himself. This was "coming in for coffee". Something that he'd actually only experienced second-hand, in movies and on TV. And the fact that his accomplice in this "coming in for coffee" deal was Emily Prentiss was altogether ideal, if not slightly nerve-wracking.

"Hotch?" Emily's voice broke his thoughts as she looked at him curiously. He'd been routinely quiet for the drive over, which was completely characteristic of him, but Emily was really wishing for a little more talk - she was dying to know if the thoughts racing in her head match those in his. Judging by the way his body had responded to hers at the club, she was fairly certain they were on the same page, but a little verification would be nice.

"Sorry," he said hastily, and accepted the mug she placed into his hands. They stood awkwardly for a moment, neither one knowing quite what to do in this new situation they'd found themselves in. It had been easier at the club - they had something to do (dance), and they were surrounded by other people. Now, however, they were alone. Just the two of them. And while both knew what stereotypically came next in this little scene they were playing out, nerves were keeping either from action.

"Did you have fun tonight?" she asked, breaking the silence. Hotch gave a nervous smile. One thing he could always count on - Emily to break the silence. Her chattiness was perfect, though, as he'd found, because she didn't mind when he stayed quiet sometimes, just continued on, making conversation, never bothering him to share more or prodding him for small details. He appreciated this more than she could know, and in turn, found himself amazed as he suddenly wanted to share more, _wanting_ to engage in silly gossip or debates over pop culture phenomenon. Her effects on him were quite far-reaching, he had to admit. It was almost frightening.

"Would you believe me if I said yes?" he asked, his voice light, prompting a small laugh from Emily.

"Well, I'm glad you came out with us, Hotch. It's good to see you loosen up. Let go of your suit jacket and tie and all that," Emily said, moving almost imperceptibly closer to him with each sentence, biting the bullet and making the first move, so to speak.

"Thanks," Hotch replied awkwardly, very much aware that Emily Prentiss was in fact moving further into his personal space. He couldn't say he hated it.

"Emily," he said, his voice a half-hearted warning. Against what, he wasn't quite sure.

"Yes?" she replied, her voice serious, her eyes looking straight into his. Hotch found he didn't really have anything to say, so he did the next logical thing he could think of. Which was to hastily place his mug onto the counter, grab his friend around the waist and pull her in for a deep kiss.

Her lips were soft, as usual (usual? when did it become usual for him to be kissing Emily Prentiss?), and he could faintly taste a hint of tequila on her. She sighed into the kiss, and relaxed her body into his. She could feel his heart beating quickly beneath her hand on his chest, which spurred her to intensify the action, and she gently prodded his lower lip with her tongue. First tongue kiss with Aaron Hotchner, a dear diary moment, Emily thought to herself wryly before focusing in on the task at hand.

Hotch took some initiative himself and, not bothering to detach himself from her, backed Emily against a wall and used his hand to hold her hip there so that he could deepen the kiss. He was using his tongue to explore her, to get her taste and find out what she liked. His other hand was in her hair, and he could smell the faint flowery smell of her shampoo. That and the lavender lotion she used were two of his new favorite smells. One of Emily's hands was running up and down his chest, trails of heat down his body, and the other came to rest dangerously on the edge of his belt buckle. In retaliation, Hotch skimmed the hem of her shirt and then slowly slid his hands upward. The feel of Emily's soft skin was electrifying - Hotch couldn't remember anything ever feeling this perfect. Of course, such a bold statement could be attributed to the oxygen deprivation he was currently experiencing. He pulled away from the kiss suddenly, breathing heavily. Emily's eyes were wide; she too was out of breath. The feeling of Hotch's fingers on her stomach was completely hot, completely unexpected but totally welcome, and Emily wanted more.

"Emily," Hotch panted. "We can't - we can't do this," he said, using his hand to steady himself on the wall next to her, his head down.

"Why not?" Emily murmured, straightening her top.

"Because, well because we work together, and - " Hotch was rambling, something completely disconcerting coming from such a nonverbal and often introverted man.

"Hotch," Emily said softly. "I like you. Do you like me?" she asked, her voice lilting in the way only hers could.

"Yes," he answered honestly, his voice hoarse. But he still didn't lift his head to meet her curious eyes.

"Okay, so then what's wrong?" she asked, her voice etched with concern.

"We work together," he said quietly, offering the explanation again. Except she wasn't buying it. Emily was a skilled profiler, after all. She grabbed his hand from its place on the wall next to her head, and took it in hers.

"Hotch," her voice was soft, her eyes searching. "Will you look at me?" He raised his head slowly, hoping to mask the emotions he could feel on his face. His gaze was dark, and his forehead furrowed. "What's going on?" Hotch sighed.

"Nothing." Now it was Emily's turn to sigh, and she raised his eyebrows at him.

"Hotch, I know you. You're my friend. And yeah, we were just making out, but that doesn't make us any less friends. I _know_ you," she said again for emphasis. "So will you please tell me what's bothering you? Is it something I did?" The concern and vulnerability in her voice was almost too much for Hotch to bear.

"No, Emily, of course not," Hotch replied quickly to her last question. It certainly wasn't her fault that he was acting this way - she had done everything right, per usual. And it was that small reason that Aaron Hotchner was hesitating now, over thinking and under-explaining. She didn't press him further, just stood there with him, looking at him with concern and something a little more than friendship in her eyes. She knew that if he wanted to tell her, he would. But it wouldn't do any good to start yelling or demanding explanations. And he wasn't making any moves to leave, so Emily just bid her time and waited for him to speak again.

It was silent for a few moments while Hotch collected his thoughts. They were still holding hands, and Emily was rubbing her thumb reassuringly over his skin, needing him to know that she was there for him. Finally, Hotch met her eyes again and gave her a humorless smile.

"I don't know how to do this," he said, his voice softer than usual. "I'm not - I'm not good at this. I'm fucked up, Emily." He wasn't looking for sympathy or pity; he was merely stating the facts as he saw them. Emily flinched as his harsh words, but her hand remained steady in his.

"Aaron," she whispered his first name, and he felt the gravity of what she was about to say. "You are _not_ fucked up. Fucked up stuff has happened to you, more than anyone deserves, and we all have our demons, but you are a good man. You are a kind man," she spoke with conviction and Hotch noticed tears gathering in her eyes. "You have fucked up pieces, we all do. But they don't define you. You are not fucked up," she repeated, both for herself and for the man in front of her. "Please believe me," her voice was barely audible, but he could hear the love and the pleading in it.

"How do you know?" This vulnerable Hotch, so unlike the invincible persona he had so much of the time was unnerving and heartbreaking, and all Emily wanted to do was fix it, fix him, and make him feel better.

"Because I _know_ you," Emily repeated her earlier refrain. "And I don't care if you're "good" at this, Hotch - that's not what I'm looking for. If it was, I'd be going after Morgan," she said, giving him a small smile which he couldn't help but return. "I just want _you._ Fucked up bits and all. I promise." Hotch swallowed audibly, and took a few deep breaths before speaking again.

"I have nightmares."

"Me too," she challenged. "Hotch, there's nothing you can say that's going to make me change how I feel. Now do you trust and respect me enough to know that I'm telling the truth?

A beat, and then he spoke, his voice stronger this time. "Yes. Thank you, Emily." A few more deep breaths, and he gave her a genuine, dimpled smile.

"Of course," she said softly, and they stood in a now-comfortable silence for a few minutes before Emily spoke again. "Now, while I firmly believe that we should take this," she gestured between them, "slowly, we were having a very nice make out session earlier and I was wondering if I could convince you to start that up again?" she asked cheekily. Hotch chuckled.

"I think you could probably persuade me."


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Here's the next installment - the morning after! I hope you enjoy this chapter, it's actually the end of the story. I'll be adding one more chapter - an epilogue of sorts - in the next few days, and then I have an idea for a new story, but sadly this one has come to an end. Please continue your wonderful feedback and comments, it is much appreciated and certainly helps inspire me to keep writing! And thanks to all that have been reading - hope it's to your liking!

I don't own anything.

* * *

Emily Prentiss had slept in. For the first time in like, years. It was 9 am - not actually very late, but for someone who habitually woke up at 6am with or without alarm clock, those three extra, luxurious hours made all the difference. Emily smiled as she attributed such a sound sleep to the fact that she'd had a bedmate - someone to cuddle up against, someone who held her tight in his arms. His very strong, toned arms. She'd actually never really been a cuddler, instead preferring her space, but with Hotch in her bed, it was a whole different story. She couldn't get close enough to him. Another smile spread across her face as she recalled the night before. After their serious talk, the heated make out session had continued with vigor. They'd eventually made it into her bedroom, though nothing more consequential than a good old-fashioned rounding of second base had occurred. They'd both wanted it - oh boy had they, but Hotch had pulled away when he felt the last shred of his self-control slipping, his hands and lips detaching from her chest.

"Emily," his voice had been rough and deep, and it had sent shivers up her spine. "If we don't stop now I won't be able to, and I don't want this to...I think we should wait." And Emily, disappointed as her libido was, had agreed, knowing it was probably a wise decision. They'd have plenty of time for all of that stuff in the future.

And so it was these thoughts that filled her head as she turned over in bed, stretching, expecting to see Hotch, possibly hoping for a little early-morning action. However, the rest of the bed was empty, and there were no signs of his ever having been there. But before Emily could go into full-on panic mode, she furrowed her brows and felt something weird on her forehead. A note, taped to her skin. She pulled it down, rolling her eyes.

_Emily, had to pick Jack up early and didn't want to wake you. See you later for the usual. PS You're a blanket hog. - Hotch_

Emily grinned and bit her lip as she read the note. It sounded exactly like Hotch. What she didn't know, however, is that it had taken the man about ten minutes to figure out what to say - after all, he'd never been the love 'em and leave 'em type, so early morning notes weren't really a specialty of his. He'd internally debated as to whether or not to add the PS at the end, but knowing Emily, she'd appreciate it. And she did, though of course she could hardly believe the accusation. She was, however, exceptionally glad that today was Saturday, her usual hang-with-the-Hotchners day. They usually began their days together with coffee around now, so Emily quickly hopped out of bed and into the shower, annoying lovey-dovey thoughts that weren't completely unwanted running through her mind.

"Will you push me on the swings, Daddy?" Jack looked up at his father as the trio reached the park, the adults with coffee mugs in hand - having made an educated guess that Emily might be a little delayed (a fact he took some pride in, of course), Hotch had prepared the two travel mugs, and the feeling of pride surged again when he pressed it into Emily's hand upon her arrival and her grateful grin was accompanied by a chaste kiss on the cheek. It was interesting, Hotch noted, that such a simple gesture could send such shocks throughout his entire body. He wondered if she had any idea how great the effect was she had on him. He was contemplating this when he felt a sharp tug on his pants. Jack had been itching to go, so they hurried out of the apartment and walked the two short blocks to the park, Jack chattering happily to Emily the whole way. Hotch had surprised Emily by grabbing her hand as they strolled without saying a word (although that aspect was certainly typical), and she had accepted similarly, enjoying the weight of his hand in hers, a reassurance of sorts that things were good, and that last night wasn't any sort of mistake. Of course, she had blushed a little too at the unexpected physical contact – a fact Hotch noted with satisfaction. Looks like he had a similar effect on her.

"Of course, buddy," Hotch replied, and Jack ran toward the swings, followed closely by his companions, though at a much slower pace.

"So, uh, I wanted to just say thank you again, for last night," Hotch said, keeping his eyes trained on his son ahead, but squeezing Emily's hand a bit tighter.

"Well thank you back, Hotch. I had a great time," she replied lightly. "I'm really glad you took Dave's advice last night."

"How did you know about that?" Hotch asked turning to look at her with bemused surprise. Emily rolled her eyes.

"JJ called me this morning on my way to your house to interrogate me, and told me that she knew something would happen with us since she and Dave were working both angles."

"Ah. Of course. So what did JJ have to say?"

"There was a lot of squealing, a lot of 'omigods' and a lot of expressive vocabulary," Emily listed, smiling. "And then she said to tell you, you're welcome."

"You mean for how she was pouring tequila down your throat? You and tequila, Emily Prentiss, that's a dangerous combination." Emily blushed, remembering just exactly how forward she'd been at the bar the night before.

"I'm sure I have no idea what you are talking about, Agent Hotchner," she responded.

"Is that your gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" Hotch mocked in a high-pitched voice, and Emily burst into laughter.

"Yeah, okay, you caught me. Tequila makes me kind of slutty. You're just lucky you were the first guy I saw," she teased, detaching her hand from his and going over to give the impatient Jack a push. Hotch gave a groan and shook his head. One thing was for sure - Emily Prentiss would keep him on his toes. Hopefully for a long time to come.

The trio remained at the park for a few hours, stopping at a small deli for a late lunch before heading back to Hotch's apartment. The hand holding had continued, much to the delight of both parties. Much _more_ to the delight of both parties, however, was when upon entering the apartment, Jack ran ahead and Emily pulled Hotch back to her and gave him a sweet kiss. He could taste the strawberry ice cream she and Jack had shared, and he decided that was his new favorite flavor.

"It's kind of cool that I can just do that now," she said, giving him a quirked smile.

"Mmm," Hotch murmured in agreement as he closed the apartment door behind them.

"I mean, I can just do that now, right?" Emily raised an eyebrow at him.

"Of course. Well, probably not at the office," he modified, giving her a grin. "Don't want to put on a show."

"Speaking of a show, I think we have an audience," Emily said, nodding down to Jack, who had run back into the room with a few toy cars, as she pulled away from his embrace.

"What's up, buddy?"

"How come you and Em are kissin'?" The five year old asked innocently, his brow furrowed in a perfect imitation of his father. Hotch regarded his son with a smile, and bent down to sit with Jack and his Lego's on the floor.

"Well, bud, sometimes when grown-ups like each other, they like to give each other kisses," he explained simply, but of course the precocious Jack wasn't entirely satisfied.

"Like when they're married?" he asked, sending Hotch into a small coughing fit and causing Emily to stifle the laughter that threatened to erupt at Hotch's discomfort.

"Well, grown-ups are allowed to kiss when they're - um, when," he turned to Emily for help explaining their particular circumstance, but she just gave him an amused shrug, which was not particularly helpful. So Hotch paused, and then went for it. "When a daddy like me has a girlfriend, then sometimes they kiss. But only grown-ups!" he added on the end, causing Emily to give another chuckle behind him.

"Well I think kissing is yucky," Jack said, scrunching up his nose, and Hotch gave an internal sigh of relief. The last thing he needed was a five-year-old Lothario on his hands. Luckily the amount of time Jack spent with Morgan was tempered by the amount of time he spent with Reid, so heart-throb of the playground wasn't a worry quite yet.

"So Em is your girlfriend?" Jack asked, his mind working faster than Hotch sometimes gave him credit for. Hotch took a deep breath, but before he could answer, Emily swooped in. Crouching next to the boys on the floor, she gave Jack a big smile.

"Yep. Is that okay with you, buddy?" she asked seriously. Jack nodded just as solemnly.

"Yeah its okay. Because you tell better stories than Daddy. And you make really good grilled cheeses," he answered, and then his eyes lit up. "Can we have some for dinner?"

"Of course," Emily replied, and Jack gave a grin before turning his attention back to his cars. The adults stood back up.

"So," Hotch said, a bit awkwardly. "I'm sorry if that was presumptuous, I just didn't know what else to tell him," Hotch said, avoiding eye contact. "I know we only just - whatever - but, I mean, we've been um, hanging out for a while. I'm sorry," he said, and for the second time in her life Emily was privy to an exceptionally rare Hotchner ramble.

"Aaron Hotchner, stop apologizing for silly things," Emily chastised him gently. "Don't you want me to be your girlfriend?"

"Of course I do," he answered. "It just sounds kind of - juvenile. And this is, well, this is more important than that," he said honestly, finally meeting her warm eyes.

"Well what would you prefer? Lady friend? Companion? Secret Lovah?" With each suggestion, Emily moved closer to Hotch.

"Can't we just be us?" he asked softly. "I like us." He reached around her slim waist to pull her closer.

"Yeah, we can just be us," she replied, eyes twinkling. The sweet smell of her shampoo filled his nostrils, and Hotch leaned in to give her a small kiss on the forehead. Emily sighed at the contact, perfectly content. The two remained seemingly frozen for a bit, safe and comfortable and happy until Jack's voice broke the reverie.

"So do I get a grilled cheese or what?"


	12. Epilogue

A/N: Here it is, the final chapter! I've really enjoyed writing this story, and I do have a few ideas for some one-shots or short multi-chapter stories that will follow this one. For all those who have given me reviews throughout, I'm so grateful! Please let me know what you think of this ending, and let me warn you now - it's pretty fluffy! Hope you enjoy.

I own nothing.

* * *

"You okay?" He asked quietly, sliding into the seat next to her. The team was on their way home form a case - a bad one, but what else was new? They'd taken off late, and were now about an hour away from D.C.

"Yeah," she replied, turning to give him a small smile. "Just ready to be home is all." Home; their home. It had been eleven months now, eleven solid months of relationship. When she said home these days, she only meant one place. Hotch's apartment, where she now spent just about all of her free time. Her clothes filled the closets, her books were stacked in the living room bookcase, the shower was now littered with her hair products. And it was good, it felt right having her there, stealing the paper from Hotch every morning, tucking Jack in at night. The almost-six-year-old in question had brought a picture home from school a week earlier, entitled "My Family", and Emily had almost cried when he showed it to her with pride. The crayon figures of Hotch and Jack were replicas of each other, one big and one mini. There was Aunt Jessica too, standing a bit off to the side, and Jack had drawn his mother, Haley, sitting on a cloud. And then, Emily's crayola likeness, standing on the other side of Jack's self-portrait. Needless to say, the drawing was now carefully hanging on the fridge, and it never failed to make Emily smile as she passed it.

"Jessica said that Jack asked if we'd wake him up when we got home," Hotch told her.

"I was already planning on it. I need some cuddles," she admitted. "I think I'm starting to get something, too. My stomach doesn't feel all that great."

"Do you want me to get you anything?"

"Just your shoulder to sleep on," she said, slouching down and leaning on Hotch. "It's my favorite pillow."

"I've noticed," he responded dryly.

Two hours later, Emily and Hotch came through the door of their apartment, weary and excited to fall into a bed and never get out of it again. They thanked Jessica profusely, and then quietly made their way into Jack's room. The little boy was sleeping peacefully, but Hotch knew that if they woke him up a bit to say goodnight, he'd fall back asleep in an instant. Jack always slept better when he knew his dad and Emily were home again.

"Hey bud," Hotch said softly, rousing the boy.

"Hi daddy. Hi Em," Jack said drowsily. "I love you."

"We love you too, sweetie," Emily said, giving him a kiss on the forehead. "Sleep tight bug."

"Night Jack," Hotch said, pulling the door to the bedroom closed behind him. He gave a sigh. "Can we go to bed now?" he asked, rubbing his hand over his tired eyes.

"Almost," Emily replied. "I'm going to check the messages, but I'll be in in a sec," she told him. Hotch nodded and turned down the hall.

He had already brushed his teeth, changed into his sweats, and taken out his contacts by the time Emily walked in. He noticed her face immediately.

"Emily? What's wrong? Are you okay?" Hotch sprang out of bed and toward her. She was pale, and had an unreadable expression on her face.

"I had a doctor's appointment last week. The doctor just called and left a message," she told him, her eyebrows scrunching together. "And?" Hotch swallowed. What the hell was going on?

"She said that some tests results came back abnormal," Emily said slowly. "But she said not to worry, that sometimes that can happen when you're pregnant." She looked him in the eyes and gave a little gasp. For his part, Hotch could only stare dumbly, his eyes wide.

"Pregnant?" he whispered.

"I guess so, I didn't even know - we must have been on a case and it slipped my mind so I didn't even realize I was late," the unreadable expression on Emily's face was lifting, and now it was composed of confusion, happiness, anxiety.

"Pregnant," Hotch repeated again, still not quite comprehending.

"Yeah," she bit her lip. "I know it's really sudden." And then he heard it, the fear in her voice, and he snapped out of his trance and a small, dimpled smile graced his face.

"Em, you're pregnant," he said, placing his hand on her untelling stomach.

"I think we've established that," she said drolly, but she couldn't help the grin that accompanied her statement.

"I know, but can you believe it?" he pulled her close, wrapped his arms around her thin frame and inhaled her flowery scent. "I don't even know what to say."

"Well that's something new," Emily murmured sarcastically against his chest. "But can you at least give me a word? Just one, to let me know what you're thinking?" she pleaded, looking up at him with warm eyes.

"I thought you were a profiler, Agent Prentiss," Hotch teased. "But you really think I'd be anything than overjoyed? I mean you caught me off guard just now, but a baby? _Our_ baby?" His smile was growing, his voice full of quiet wonder, and he kept his hand firmly on her flat midsection.

"I don't know, we never really talked about kids, and we have Jack and he's been through so much, and it's not like we're in the greatest profession for having a family," Emily rambled, still in quite a daze herself. The word "pregnant" was one she wasn't sure she'd ever hear in relation to herself. She had always wanted to be a mother; her maternal instinct was one of her greatest assets. But as she'd gotten older and found herself continually single (an occupational hazard, no doubt), her hope for the kind of close-knit and happy family she'd lacked growing up had diminished. She'd be lying if she said she'd never thought about the idea of a baby with Hotch, but she wasn't sure quite how to approach it, and they'd only been together for about a year anyway. So to hear the doctor's voice confirming something she'd only ever dreamed about - well, it was safe to say that Emily was in a slight arena of disbelief. And with that came fear, and worry, and a strange and overwhelming rush of love for this _thing_ that she didn't even know or feel or have yet.

"We'll make it work, Em," Hotch said succinctly. "And, for the record, I am. Overjoyed. Though not particularly excited about 2am diaper changes," he offered, causing Emily to laugh, and some of that newfound worry to lift.

"Yeah well, until you have to go through childbirth those diaper changes are all yours," she joked back. "But god Hotch, I still can't believe it. I'm so - I'm so happy," her voice was breaking from emotion. "I never thought I'd get to do this - after, well, after Italy," she said with a touch of sadness, and Hotch felt his heart drop as it did whenever he was forced to face the pain of Emily's past.

"Emily," he said softly, and she turned so that they were face to face. She could see the love in his eyes, and his fierce protective nature shining through, and she gave him a small reassuring smile.

"No, Hotch, I'm fine," she replied. "I promise. I've just waited for this for a really long time. And now it's here and I just can't even believe it."

"Well you are going to be a terrific mother, Emily Prentiss," Hotch said, quirking an eyebrow at his girlfriend. She mimicked the facial expression, causing him to laugh. "You already are, with Jack. And with all the kids we encounter - Em, this baby, she's so lucky to have you."

"She?" Emily pulled away from Hotch and crawled into bed, a quizzical look on her face. "I'm pretty sure Fetus down there doesn't even have any parts yet, Aaron."

"I've just always thought that if we had a baby, it would be a girl." He could see her now, his daughter, their daughter. She'd have their dark hair, of course, but Emily's warm eyes. His dimples, and her sense of humor. Hopefully Emily's friendly nature, but with a touch of his quiet thoughtfulness as well. And she would have their shared smarts and stubbornness. And she, just like her mother, would have him completely wrapped around her little finger. He smiled at the thought of her, and then gave Emily a practiced look of consternation. "And can we please think of a better name? Not really a fan of Fetus over here." Emily rolled her eyes.

"It's accurate," she pointed out.

"It's weird," Hotch countered. "She's going to have enough weirdness in her life, let's not set her up for failure early," he intoned sarcastically.

"God, isn't that the truth," Emily exhaled. "I concede."

"That's a first," Hotch muttered, causing Emily to throw a pillow at him as he climbed into the bed next to her.

"She's gonna be the best, right?" Emily asked softly, curling up to Hotch.

"If she's anything like her mother, then yes," Hotch replied drowsily, causing Emily to snort.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Aaron Hotchner. I'm exhausted and so not in the mood."

"I'm offended that you think my compliment had ulterior motives," he replied with a small laugh, clicking off the light next to him. It was quiet for a few moments, and then -

"You thought about it? About us and a baby?" Her voice was both hopeful and amused.

"Of course, Em," his voice rumbled beneath her.

"But you never said anything about it."

"Well I thought it would come up naturally sometime in the future, after we get married." Emily sat up with a start.

"After we get married?" she repeated slowly. "When were you planning on that?" Hotch sat up and flicked the light back on.

"I don't know," he answered honestly. "Don't you want to get married?" his voice was light, as the frequent hints from JJ and Garcia had made him pretty certain of the answer.

"Obviously," she replied with a roll of her eyes. "Wait - are you asking?" her voice went high. "Are you seriously asking me right now in bed when I have no make-up on and haven't slept in days, to marry you?"

"Emily, calm down," Hotch said with a chuckle. "I'm not asking you right this moment. Contrary to popular belief, I actually do have a soft heart and some romantic leanings. You may be aware," he gave her a smirk.

"So you're _going _to ask me?" She regarded him with a sharp eye.

"Emily Prentiss, I love you, I'm _in_ love with you, and I always will be. Of course I'm _going_ to ask you," he gave her one of his famous looks - this one of the "stop-challenging-me" variety. "Now are you going to keep bothering me and ruin everything, or are you going to shut the hell up and get some sleep already?" The small smile he gave her belied his gruff tone. "You have to take care of yourself better now, Em. Baby says she needs sleep."

"Baby's _in_ me, so I think I can hear her better than you. She says you're a big meanie. But," she gave a dramatic sigh, "she loves you anyway." Hotch leaned over to give Emily a kiss on the forehead.

"What about her mom?" Hotch said teasingly, pressing a kiss to Emily's lips, his words and gesture illiciting a genuine smile from her.

"Her _mom_," she said the word with pride and a touch of wonder, "will always love you anyway."

"Good," Hotch said, pulling Emily closer to him, and that was the last word spoken as the two agents fell asleep, limbs intertwined, soft smiles on both faces, his large hands atop hers, both sets resting on her stomach.


End file.
